


Tigryenok

by apieformydean



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dresses, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender Dysphoria, Kazakhstan is an asshole here, M/M, Post-Canon, Supportive Otabek, Yakov and Lilia are not assholes, ftm!Yuri, he's 17 so don't hate on me okay, ily all, it's not really the main thing in it tho, long-haired Yura ftw, no hard feeling for my Kazakh readers tho, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apieformydean/pseuds/apieformydean
Summary: “You won’t like it,” Lilia turned to the computer, obviously trying to avoid Yuri’s gaze.“Come on, Lilia, if the piggy and Viktor could pull it off, I won’t fall behind either,” the boy declared, finding his confidence again.The title is a reoccurring nickname here, meaning tiger cub in Russian.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heey everyone so this is my first attempt at this pairing but I quite enjoyed writing them, I hope you'll too! Warnings of mild gender dysphoria!!

Kazakhstan was a fairly traditional country. Yuri knew it perfectly well, even before visiting.

Not that Russia wasn’t. He always got his fair share of stares in the streets ever since he decided to let his hair grow. He saw men looking at him with shocked expressions then laughing when they thought he couldn't hear them. Sometimes they even catcalled him. He saw old couples shaking their heads at him, as if he was the representation of some kind of trend today. He heard mothers gasping behind his back as he made his way, shushing their children who were asking questions mercilessly – always the same ones: ‘Mom, is that a boy or a girl? ‘Why is she wearing boys’ clothes?’ ‘She is so strange, isn't she?’

He knew all these things but he didn't give a fuck. He has learned long ago that he shouldn't. He felt confident – most of the time – and he was a GPF champion _male_ figure skater after all. He was a boy and the opinions of some idiots in the streets really didn’t matter.

What mattered, though, was entirely different.

“No way, Yakov,” Yuri shook his head. He felt like he was about to just stand up and leave. This was fucking ridiculous. “I’m not skating with Mila. I can’t even lift her fat ass.”

“Hey, you little-” Mila was about to shot up from her seat but Georgi grabbed her by her shoulder and held her in her seat firmly.

They were in Yakov’s office because the coach asked them to stay for a quick meeting. It was not quick. They have been sitting in the small room for almost half an hour, twenty-seven minutes of it exclusively being Yakov beating about the bush. When he finally decided to tell them what his friend, the coach of the Kazakh team asked from him, the three of them was shocked.

“I don’t want to skate with the little punk either!” Mila replied with an unusually heated gesture of her hands.

“Your face is burning,” Georgi pointed out.

“And that’s not what you said before, baba,” Yuri smiled smugly at her from under his fringe. His pale-blond hair was already brushing the middle of his back.

“I’m going to skin you!”

“Kids, shut it!” Yakov called, voice echoing in the office. Mila and Georgi jumped a bit but Yuri was already used to being shouted at. He just glanced at his coach lazily. “It’s a meeting, we have this issue and I won’t let you skip it!”

“But why can’t these two skate together? I could just do one of my short programs,” Yuri muttered under his breath.

“You know perfectly well why,” Georgi shot him a glance, getting red in the face already, clearly trying to shut him up.

“Oh, right, you can’t dance with a girl because you get freaky flashbacks,” Yuri nodded, pretending he didn’t realise the way the man teared up.

“And I can’t skate with Yura either, Coach,” Mila told him with a pleading face. She was being pathetic, in Yuri’s opinion. “It would be so comic, wouldn’t it?”

Yakov thought about it for a moment and Yuri knew he already won. He wouldn’t have to skate with Mila, he could just slip out of this whole shit because frankly, he had an asston of better things to-

“Okay, I’ve got it,” the coach announced. He was now grinning at Yuri with the grin of a wolf and all of a sudden, the blond boy didn’t feel like he was about to win at all.

 

 **beka_altin:** so he basically left you no choice

 **tigryenok:** well

 **tigryenok:** you know me i will fuck him over somehow anyway

 **beka_altin:** wow very punk

 **tigryenok:** im not skating with some kazakh chick even if i can choose which one

 **tigryenok:** i want none

 **beka_altin:** what’s wrong with the kazakh girls?

 **tigryenok:** shut up im thinking

 **beka_altin:** i’m waiting patiently for you tigryenok

 **beka_altin:** my tigryenok

 **tigryenok:** ur so gay

 **beka_altin:** …

 **beka_altin:** we literally came out to each other on the same day

 **tigryenok:** yes we did

 **tigryenok:** i still dont know why i did it youre annoying af

 **beka_altin:** i’m quite sure i’m the best thing that ever happened to you

 **tigryenok:** you might be

 **tigryenok:** wait

 **tigryenok:** YeS FUCK I HAVE AN IDEA

 **beka_altin:** i have a really bad feeling about this

 **tigryenok:** you bet

 

“And did you actually _think_ this would work?” Lilia asked in her usual coach-voice, the one suggesting she was the only one in the conversation who was not completely out of her mind.

“It might,” Otabek reassured her through the video chat. “I’m in, I’m not afraid of this.”

When Yuri told Yakov and Lilia that he wanted to skate with Otabek at that fancy gala, they almost fell off their chairs. It is _Kazakhstan_ , the old man said, gaping breathlessly at him. There are _rules_ and _norms_ , the woman emphasised.

“Hey, I’m doing it this way or not at all,” the boy stated. The sentence deepened the wrinkles on Lilia’s forehead but from the corner of his eye Yuri caught his friend on the screen smiling for a moment. Was it pride in his smile? Or just amusement? The blond boy couldn’t tell.

“No, there is no way it could-” Lilia shook her head as the sign of finishing the conversation. Then she stopped, in the middle of the sentence, and Yuri almost took the opportunity to argue, when the woman corrected herself. “Well, there _might_ be a way...”

“We’ll do it, ma’am,” Otabek nodded on the screen without question.

“I need to call Yakov first,” Lilia stood up and fishing her phone out of her purse, she left the office.

“She looks quite unhappy about whatever she’s thinking,” Otabek noted after she closed the door, with an unreadable expression.

“Anything that is, we’ll do it, right?” Yuri spoke right to the webcam, trying to understand what Otabek meant. Lilia usually just had a bitter expression.

“As long as this is what you want,” the Kazakh boy nodded, small smile appearing on his lips. Silence fell on them as they looked at each other but it wasn’t the usual comfortable silence. This was full of thoughts and worry. The younger skater couldn’t take it for very long.

“Do you think it’s a good idea, Beka?” Yuri asked really quietly, for the first time ever since the solution for the problem occurred to him.

“Well, it’s not like either of us would be banned from skating,” he joked. Yes, Yuri knew that was true. Their countries weren’t in the position to stop them from taking part in competitions. The thought put a smug smile on his face. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry, Yura.”

“For once, I hope you’re right,” the blond boy smirked at his friend who just rolled his eyes.

The door opened and they both jumped a little.

“Yakov said yes,” Lilia sat down next to Yuri. She put her phone on the table and the boy’s eyes lingered on it for a moment.

“Then what is it, ma’am?” Otabek asked politely, taking a glance at his friend.

“You won’t like it,” Lilia turned to the computer, obviously trying to avoid Yuri’s gaze.

“Come on, Lilia, if the piggy and Viktor could pull it off, I won’t fall behind either,” the boy declared, finding his confidence again. He, of course, didn’t bring up the fact that it was in Russia. Completely different thing.

“Fine, okay,” Lilia put up a hand. Her expression showed she was really uncomfortable. “But the thing is… you’ll have to wear a dress.”

 

“I hate them!” Yuri muttered angrily. He was leaning against the wall of the changing room, huffing to himself. “ _Traditional representation_ my ass. They just want me to suffer for being difficult.”

“Come on, kid,” he heard Mila call from outside the cubicle. She has already bought her dress for her performance with the Kazakh guy Yakov chose her. “We don’t have all day! You have like nine dresses in there, choose one!”

Yuri rolled his eyes. He grabbed all the remaining dresses and didn’t bother putting them back on the hangers. He pulled the curtain of the changing room aside and tossed them at Mila. The girl caught them with slight surprise but then a huge smile appeared on her face.

“Oh my, you look beautiful.”

Yuri didn’t think so. The white dress, with its wave-like flounces and black bow running around its waist-area, was ridiculous. His hair put up in a braid didn’t help either. The only good thing he realised in the mirror was that the boob-area was totally flat. His binder did a wonderful job.

“This is the least disgusting one,” Yuri told Mila while fixing the dress on himself in the mirror.

And she didn’t waste any time, she hugged him tightly, to his greatest horror.

“Eww, what the fuck! Let me go!”

“Yakov wouldn’t ask you something like this if it wasn’t really important, you know?” the girl, who was obviously stronger so couldn’t be shrugged off so easily, whispered into his ear. “We all know it sucks but that’s what those idiots over there want. I’m proud of you for doing this.”

Yuri froze for a moment because did the hag just say this out loud? He understood exactly what she meant from the way she said it, and it made his insides shiver.

“Let me go, baba, I can’t breathe,” Yuri asked her, softer this time and Mila did take a step back.

“You will nail this and give Kazakhstan a huge middle finger,” she reassured him. The blond boy watched her smiling sympathetically from the mirror and before letting something slip from his mind, he stepped back into the changing room to take the dress off. He pulled the curtain in behind himself and sighed.

He was really going to do this.

 

Otabek arrived a week later.

Yuri, Yakov, Georgi and Mila were sitting at the airport, waiting for the Kazakh skaters and their coach to land. The blond boy had a strange, trembling feeling in his guts. It was either because of the fact that he was going to meet his friend after three months again or maybe because he shouldn’t have eaten that second serving of katsudon. Whatever. Yuuri made the best katsudon ever and he wasn’t going to miss out on it.

Either way, it certainly wasn’t because of the dress.

He hadn’t put it on since he bought it. Not once. He was afraid he would puke all over it. But it was going to be okay, he told himself. Otabek was on his way and Yuri loved being around him because he made him feel like he could relax a little, he could let his guard down.

When the blond boy saw the Kazakh team approach them, he jumped to his feet, quickly finding Otabek with his eyes among them. The older boy smiled at him slightly and Yuri felt as happy as he rarely did. He started walking towards them but then just broke into a run and hugged Otabek, jumping on him with his arms around the blushing Kazakh boy’s neck.

After they dropped off Otabek’s stuff at the hotel, Yakov told them they got the afternoon for themselves so he and Yuri decided to go back to the Katsuki-Nikiforov residence. There was, well, basically a guestroom, but Yuri stayed there so frequently it became his own room with time. He had clothes and a toothbrush of his own there. He quite liked it. Now they were sitting on the bed, eating popcorn and watching some concert DVD Viktor lent them.

“I like it here,” Otabek noted, popping a kernel in his mouth. Yuri was lying on his chest, legs intertwined with his and the Kazakh boy rested his arm around his shoulders. He was comforting and warm.

“Well, when they’re not acting like annoying parents, I like it, too,” the boy replied, thinking about how fortunate it was that the married idiots were at the rink and didn’t nag them.

“So Yakov has the whole program choreographed?” Otabek started and it was clear he had a plan for how he wanted this conversation to flow.

“Just ask me about the dress, I know you want to know,” Yuri sighed, closing his eyes. It has been the elephant in the room ever since Lilia told them about it. Otabek didn’t ask and Yuri was happy not to bring it up. Now he had to, though.

“Do you have it already?” the Kazakh boy asked, still careful. Yuri didn’t see his face but he could tell he was really curious.

“Yeah, I do.”

Yuri disentangled himself from the cuddle and got up. He made his way to the wardrobe and after a few minutes of searching – he made sure it was _really_ deeply buried after he bought it – he pulled out the white dress. He put it in front of himself and turned to Otabek, grimacing.

The Kazakh boy’s eyebrows ran together. Yuri gulped. He suddenly felt like throwing the dress out of the window because Otabek obviously hated-

“Would you put it on?”

Yuri did. He didn’t care that much about Otabek being there, he took his shirt off in a single movement – only then realising the boy could see his binder. Taking a side glance at Otabek, Yuri saw he turned away considerately. He quickly took his jeans off as well and slipped into the silky dress.

“You can look.”

Otabek turned to see him. First he looked totally taken aback, then looked at his friend from head to toe. His lips parted a bit and Yuri didn’t know why he was even _looking_ at his lips. The older boy was obviously surprised and Yuri really hoped it wasn’t because of how ugly he looked. He didn’t dare to ask and he was happy the other boy broke the silence.

“You are beautiful.”

The sentence came unexpectedly. Yuri knew Mila said the same and he was perfectly aware it had not affected him in any way, but now, hearing it from Otabek…

“You don’t mean it,” Yuri shook his head, grabbing the dress to take it off when Otabek jumped to his feet.

“No, no, don’t,” he asked, crossing the room and taking Yuri’s hands so he couldn’t take the dress off. “I do mean it.”

Despite their age gap, Yuri was taller than him. Otabek’s eyes were on the level of his nose but the Kazakh boy was more muscular; clearly the reason why Yakov wanted him to be in the traditional ‘man’ role in the pair skating. He could easily pick up Yuri.

His best friend who he met face-to-face only like six times in his life, holding his hand… it was ridiculous how fast his heart started to beat. Moments ago, lying with him didn’t feel like this. Now Yuri didn’t even dare to breathe with the older boy’s face so close to his. Otabek seemingly wasn’t effected by their closeness, not as much as Yuri was.

“It’s amazing, I’m-” the Kazakh boy ran out of words so instead he just brought his hand up to tug Yuri’s hair behind his ear carefully. Suddenly the younger boy was grinning.

“I get it, I guess,” he nodded, leaning in and putting a small kiss on Otabek’s cheek. The boy’s eyes grew huge and light pink tinted his cheeks in a second. Yuri chuckled. The ugly dress didn’t seem to be that ugly in that moment.

 

“It was wonderful, boys!” Lilia’s voice shrieked in Yuri’s ears as he stood in the end position, holding Otabek’s held-out hand firmly. Both of them were out of breath, it was their second time skating the full program and it was really tough on Yuri’s stamina. “One more time!”

“Give them a moment, Lilia,” they heard Yakov speak and Yuri sighed with relief. “Come on, take a break!” Yakov called them, to the woman’s great displease.

Yuri hated the way the old man looked at him these days. Like he was some small animal who deserved better. He was 17, for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a child anymore, he didn’t need anybody to take care of his soul or feelings.

Well, maybe he needed _someone_.

They got off the ice, making their way to one of the benches on the side of the rink. Yuri grabbed his water and sat down, watching the other, what, fifteen skaters scattered on the ice, everybody going about their own business. He felt his back being covered by his jacket and he turned to look at Otabek.

“Thanks,” he smiled at him, leaning against the older boy tiredly. They spent some moment just watching the others on the ice, then the Kazakh boy spoke as Yuri knew he would.

“Are you okay, Yura?” he asked, in a way that made it clear that he _knew_ Yuri wasn’t. The blond boy had no idea how to reply, though.

He couldn’t say he was. He obviously wasn’t and he didn’t like lying to Otabek anyway.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t, either. There were two things on his mind constantly and neither was suitable for these surroundings to discuss.

One was the dress. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was still ugly and he still hated it but now he didn’t want to burn it. He felt like a trapped mouse every time he had to wear it, it made him want to throw up because it was so much not like him… but Otabek liked it. He called it beautiful multiple times, mostly while the Russian boy was wearing it. Otabek had faith in this whole thing and he deserved this performance in front of his country. They had been working on this program for a month now and the Kazakh boy hadn’t been home ever since. He was living in the hotel room – well, okay, mostly in _Yuri’s_ room. They got to spend a lot of time together and even with the shadow of the dress-thing above it all, Yuri couldn’t deny this was one of the best months of his life.

That was the other thing, actually. The way they slept together on several nights and the older boy’s hands on his waist as he threw him into a triple Axel and the fact that Yuri made him laugh so hard when they were watching some dumb movie that milk came back through Otabek’s nose…

“I’m not,” Yuri answered eventually, watching his hands in his lap. “But I will sort this one out on my own, don’t worry.”

 

Turns out, he didn’t.

It was night before the Gala. They arrived in Kazakhstan late in the afternoon but Yuri was so tired he didn’t feel like going anywhere.

“We could watch a film?” Otabek prompted and yes, it sounded okay, Yuri decided.

He was a nervous wreck, without any obvious reason. He was prepared for the next day. He had the whole program in his head, his skates were sharp and clean, and his-

His dress. It was lying in the bottom of his suitcase, carefully tucked away from everything, and still, Yuri felt like it was glowing in the dark. It was radiating cold all over the room and he was sure it was all Otabek was thinking about, too.

They were sitting on the bed of Yuri’s hotel room, leaning against the headboard, watching some American classic. The Kazakh boy liked those a lot, usually was concentrating on them as if he saw them for the first time. That was one reason why Yuri felt strange when Otabek took his hand. It was nothing unusual itself, they have done this plenty of times before. While cooking together, before falling asleep, even on the plane… but now, it felt new. It had a meaning.

“Beka?” Yuri asked softly, taking a side-glance at the older boy. Otabek was already watching him, small smile on his face that Yuri loved. The blond boy blushed under the intense glance, feeling his insides warm up.

He knew Otabek was about to kiss him. The Kazakh boy slowly turned his whole upper-body towards Yuri. The younger boy tried to imitate him, knowing nothing about kissing. Otabek ran a gentle hand up Yuri’s arm to then rest it on his cheek.

“Yura, can I kiss you?”

Even though he was fully aware of where this was going, Yuri’s breath hitched. Hearing it being said out loud, it made his heart pound against his ribcage. He barely had enough air to answer.

“Yes.”

Otabek leaned in, slowly, really slowly, and Yuri thought about closing his eyes too, but he couldn’t. He watched as the older boy approached his face until, eventually, his lips met Yuri’s.

The Russian boy never really thought about what it would be like, being kissed. Well, not before the past month. This one was not a big movie-like kiss, not a heated one either but it made the younger boy’s knees weak. He sensed every centimetre of their lips touching, in a very real manned. It wasn’t a dream anymore. The thought made Yuri braver and he opened his mouth. Otabek gave a surprised sound but slipped his tongue in without a second thought.

Yuri felt his skinnies getting really tight as he moved a little closer to Otabek. The older boy’s hand slipped into his hair behind his ear, his other hugging his narrow waist. Yuri’s whole being became electric, he grabbed the front of Otabek’s shirt and pulled him in, closer, closer-

The older boy’s fingers touched the rim of his binder and Yuri’s heart skipped a beat. He hasn’t been in a situation before, that’s for sure, so it was normal to be jumpy… right? But Otabek knew about his binder, he knew everything about him and he still wanted to kiss him so Yuri was being irrational…

Suddenly he was too aware of the presence of the dress in his suitcase once again.

“Yura?” the Kazakh boy called his name quietly, pulling away so now only their foreheads were touching. His warm chocolate eyes were scanning Yuri’s face with worry. “You’re far away. What’s wrong?”

“I’m-” Yuri wanted to explain himself, wanted to ask Otabek to just fucking go on with the kiss but the older boy was too damn clever for his own sake and wouldn’t have done it anyway. “It’s just- I’m a dumb fucker,” he concluded with a short, painful chuckle, lump in his throat growing.

“Was I too forward?” the Kazakh skater asked, eyes never leaving Yuri’s face but he pulled his arm back from around his waist. Yuri shook his head and pushed his lips together tightly. He tried to ignore the fact that there was the three of them in the room; Otabek, him and that fucking dress.

“Beka, do I look like a girl?”

Silence fell on them as the older boy’s eyes grew huge.

“What?”

“Do I look like a fucking girl?” Yuri asked, lips trembling. No, he couldn’t cry. He wasn’t that weak. Otabek even pulled back a bit but the blond boy didn’t let him go that far. “Answer me!”

“Of course you don’t!” he replied, still shocked at the question. “Why would-” he followed Yuri’s eyes to the suitcase and he seemed to understand it in a moment. “Oh, god.”

“I though I’ll just do this without thinking too much but fuck, it’s harder than it should be,” Yuri explained and somewhere in the middle of the sentence, he broke. Now tears were streaming down his face and he was being pathetic. Otabek sighed and gently took his hands, leading the younger boy on his lap. Yuri obeyed, he sat on his friends thighs, hugging his neck tightly. He instantly felt a bit better. A little bit.

“Jesus, tigryenok, if I knew…” the Kazakh boy shook his head, embracing the small torso in front of him. He instantly started rocking him slightly.

“It’s not your fault,” Yuri mumbled into his neck. “I’m a failure, I hate that I dragged you into this-”

“Stop it, okay?” Otabek spoke in such a soft tone that Yuri’s eyes shot open. “You’re anything but a failure and you didn’t drag me into anything, I could have said no but I didn’t because I wanted to do this, for you… to show off my beautiful bo- my _friend_ and what he can do.”

“You all keep telling me I’m beautiful and it makes me feel so… girly,” Yuri blurted out, the word falling from his lips with a wince. He was glad Otabek didn’t see his expression because it was really not beautiful.

“Why should we use such a word for only one gender?” the Kazakh boy asked. “Can’t a landscape be beautiful? Can’t Viktor be beautiful?”

“Poor example,” Yuri crackled up, holding his friend’s neck. Or was it what they were? After that kiss? “You are beautiful, too,” he added absentmindedly.

Otabek hummed lightly into his ear and pulled back to look at the younger boy in the eyes. “You can be anything, Yura, anything you want.”

“I just can’t wear pants tomorrow,” Yuri mumbled, gaze falling on his hands in his lap. Otabek only replied to that after a moment of thinking.

“You can.”

“Yeah, sure, and then Yakov will make me dig my own grave,” he huffed cynically.

“No, hear me out,” Otabek put a hand on Yuri’s cheek to turn him to himself. “Lilia said they need a couple, one of them in pants, the other in a skirt.”

“What do you mean?” Yuri asked carefully. He didn’t like the clever glow in Otabek’s eyes.

“That Mila must be about the same size as me.”

Yuri’s jaw dropped.

“You- you mean-” he tried to process what the Kazakh skater was talking about. “We’re switching parts?”

“No, I’ll just wear a skirt and you’ll wear pants. It will be hilarious,” Otabek grinned at him. A full-on grin, with his eyes half-shut and his dimples appearing which Yuri didn’t even know about. He couldn’t help it, he launched forward and kissed him on the lips.

Otabek chuckled against Yuri, cupping his cheeks from both sides. The younger boy held him as if holding on for dear life. He felt the tear lines slowly drying on his cheeks only to be washed away again. When they pulled away, he was smiling, though.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated!! Thank you for reading and have a very happy new year? <3


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